No Final Solution
by theorclair
Summary: Sequel to The Last Place You'd Look. John and Sherlock attempt to sort out their relationship in the aftermath of the trial, while cases and other crises pile on.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This story will have both scenes from John and Sherlock's perspectives. (While I wanted to write what was going on in Sherlock's head during The Last Place You'd Look, it wouldn't have been very conducive to the case scenes.)

Unbetated and un-Brit picked. If someone wants to do either please say so.

It was pouring rain when John left the clinic that day, pouring so hard that he got soaked in the short walk to the cab stand. Normally he didn't work on Saturday, but he'd been called in to substitute for a sick doctor. It had been a trying day, and the only thing that made it look up was that his support group met tomorrow.

A funny thing to say, he thought. If you had told him a year ago that he'd be going to a therapy group and look forward to its meetings every week, he'd have laughed himself into a hernia. But a year ago he had lived in a pre-K world. No, since it was the beginning of December he had only lived in a post-K world for ten months.

K. Even now he couldn't make himself call her anything else. Sherlock, on the few occasions he had mentioned her, simply said She or Her with very obvious capital letters. When he'd been called in to talk to a child patient who the Yard suspected had been sexually abused, way back in February, John had had no idea what he was going to unleash. He just wanted to help the Yard, and no one, not even their entire team of experts, had gotten the girl to even admit to being abused, much less who did it. He had no better luck then they did.

Then he made the mistake of telling Sherlock about it.

They hadn't had a case then, not in a week or so at least, but John truly just wanted to share a story he found disturbing. Child abuse was so mundane that he figured Sherlock wouldn't be interested even though the Yard was involved. But he was very interested, and angry. John knew that keeping him away from the hospital was a lost cause, so he simply asked to come along with him. (If he hadn't John suspected Sherlock would have snuck into the hospital himself, and the resulting clash between him and the Yard wasn't worth thinking about.) He expected to have to drag him away from the scared, traumatized girl, but not only had he been good with the child, she asked to see him again. And that time she talked about her abuser she referred to as K. And so did Sherlock. Not much, but enough to make John ring Mycroft to demand answers. Mycroft reluctantly gave them. He told a horribly truthful account of how he had noticed warning signs but wasn't able to do anything about them until his brother rang him one day with a request to come home. How he'd come home and his mother informed him Sherlock was telling "horrible lies" about a neighbor, not saying who was involved but clearly saying it was a sexual issue, and that Sherlock was going away to school for the first time. Mycroft had demanded to know who it was, but she refused to reveal it, and died a few months later. How Sherlock had claimed complete ignorance about whoever it was that he'd supposedly lied about. How he still regarded it as his biggest failure.

When another victim showed up at the Yard a few days later, Sherlock talked to him as well. Sherlock even reassured him that he'd been through the same thing. Although Sherlock knew that John knew, he still maintained his silence. John wisely didn't ask. They spoke to more victims, their families, and other people they had been in contact with. It was a horrifying litany of damaged children, damaged, families, damaged adults. But no sign of the perpetrator until the victim that Sherlock had bonded with, Phillip Rodgers, had shown up at their door early in the morning with a note. The note led them to Yorkshire, and it was there they finally came face to face with K.

John almost asked the woman who came to the door where her husband was. He was eternally glad he hadn't done so, because a few exchanges between her and Sherlock revealed that not only was she the one who had abused the children, she'd also been the one that abused Sherlock. And she didn't seem to feel bad about it. She smiled the whole time. Sherlock was the one who practically had to be carried back to Baker Street. From there things had only gotten worse.

There were more questions, a long trial, and Sherlock started to use drugs again. John had been to most of the trial and was still haunted by the stories of the victims, even the ones he hadn't known beforehand. Still worse was the memory of Sherlock's testimony. He'd clutched the stuffed bee one of the other victims had bought for him the whole time, and had looked like a frightened child. The only way he kept coping was the support group. The then fiancee of one of K's victims had invited him to a support group meeting, and John was suprised to find it was exactly what he needed. He hadn't missed a meeting yet.

The therapist that ran the group, Dr. Dodson, called it "a group for family and friends of those who have been sexually abused" but currently all the members were in some sort of romantic relationship with that other person. Including John, he supposed, although it wasn't like any other romantic relationship he'd been in in the past. There was no intimacy. Sherlock had touched him before the so-called relationship had begun, but not anymore. John had a feeling it had to do with that shift in their relations - he had gone from being non-sexual (and safe) to sexual and not safe. He both wanted to discuss it with the group, since they'd understand, and yet not wanting to admit the relationship was that distant.

When the cab got to Baker Street and he got out, he wondered if Sherlock would be there. Lestrade had made it clear that if he showed up to a crime scene high on anything he'd never be called back, (and in the process implying he'd issued some sort of ultimatum on the subject before) and as a result Sherlock scanned the newspapers before pulling a vanishing and returning high (or after the high was over) act. But he hadn't stopped it entirely. He had once said that he'd rather live on the street than talk to a therapist, and John believed him. Of course John could ask him to leave, but the chance then the street would swallow him up was too great to risk. Mycroft had forced him into treatment some years ago, for what reason John had never been told, but he wouldn't do the same thing again. John knew he felt guilty for not having stopped his brother's abuse (even though there wasn't any way he realistically could have), and even more guilt at the fact he had assumed whoever was abusing his brother had to be male and thus never suspected it was the local pediatrician that Sherlock spoke so highly of.

He went up the stairs and opened the door. Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa, still in pajamas, using his stuffed bee Hamish as a pillow. This made John sigh with relief; if he had recently gotten high on cocaine he wouldn't be calmly lying on the sofa.

"You forgot your umbrella," Sherlock said without looking up.

"I assumed it wasn't going to rain." He hung up his jacket and went into the kitchen to see what he could make for dinner.

"There's still some risotto."

"You didn't eat it?"

"Wasn't hungry."

John sighed. "There's no case now. You have no excuse not to eat."

"Pardon me, Mother," Sherlock snapped back.

John paused with his hand on the fridge door. "Did Victor Trevor ring you today?" Victor Trevor had been a friend of Sherlock's from secondary school, and had been a surprise witness at the trial. He had also been the one to out K to Sherlock's mother. She, rather than being concerned for her son, burned the stuffed bee Mycroft had given him, planned to send him to boarding school, and when Mycroft himself came home she defended herself by saying Sherlock had been "telling horrible lies." She refused to tell Mycroft who Sherlock had been supposedly lying about, and had died a few months later from a stroke.

"Yes, and he left a unbearably polite message." Sherlock practically spat out the words.

"You delete his texts," John pointed out. "Is there a particular reason you want to avoid him so much?"

Sherlock's expression went from anger to fear. "None of your buisness."

John wisely didn't push the issue. _Thank god for my group tomorrow_, he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: As I said on my other story, sorry for the delay. I am working on five different writing projects and trying to juggle them is hard. For those of you who are curious: next chapter is Sherlock's perspective.

Sherlock was still asleep when John headed out to his group meeting. He'd still been up when John had gone to bed, but had also indicated that he still wanted John with him in his room. They'd begun doing so during the whole horror of the case with K. It wasn't exactly platonic, but it wasn't sexual, either. Sherlock usually used Hamish as a large fuzzy block that kept the two of them from touching. On top of that, he sometimes told John to sleep upstairs, and when Sherlock wasn't there John slept upstairs as well. So John had fallen asleep alone, but woke up to a Hamish barrier. He tried not to make a lot of noise as he got ready and headed out. It was only ten-thirty, and the meeting wasn't until noon, but he was going to walk there. It helped clear out his brain.

As usual, once he got up to Dr. Dodson's office, someone was already there. Eli, the group's self-proclaimed "elder statesman" always showed up before anyone else. Today John was also greeted by Peter, who had apparently returned from his delayed honeymoon in Europe (the first one had been delayed by some sort of hospitalization of his wife).

"You're very pale for someone who just was in Greece," John said to Peter as he sat down. John knew that had been the last destination in the trip. He didn't show any signs of having been in the sun, besides a few light streaks in his long hair and beard.

"I don't tan. I burn. My wife has a lovely tan, though."

"I take it you had a good time?" John asked.

"Most excellent, thank you." He smiled broadly.

"Gloria got married while you were gone," Eli said to Peter. Gloria was Gloria Yellowfox, the person who had introduced John to the group. John knew the man she'd married, Graham, slightly from the K case.

"Oh, she did?"

"Yes, but they're not going anywhere yet."

"Another delayed honeymoon. I've started a trend," Peter said with a chuckle.

"Are you all right?" Eli asked John. Eli always took the time to check in with each group member individually.

"I suppose. No new dramas. He hasn't gotten high in a while but I'm not betting that will continue. And an old friend has tried to contact him, but he doesn't want to speak to him."

As soon as John finished his sentence Dr. Dodson came into the room. He sat down off to the side of the circle of chairs. He always tried to let the group conduct itself as much as possible, and mostly asked for specific information or would give them an impromptu psychiatric lesson if no one felt particularly chatty.

Only a few minutes after Dr. Dodson came in, Mari walked through the door. A heavyset woman with bright red hair, she had attended the group the second longest. "Peter!" she said as she searched for a chair. "How was Europe?"

"Very good, thank you. And you're the first person to not say I didn't get a tan."

"You mentioned once you never tan."

"No one but you was listening, then." Mari and Peter laughed.

"John? How are you?" She sat in a nearby chair.

"Tired," he said. "No new dramas but I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"I'll ask for more at the start of the meeting, then." Mari was a big believer in letting the whole group hear everyone's troubles.

The group members chatted amongst themselves as they waited for the other members to arrive. Rodney arrived shortly after Mari, and shuffled his way to a chair, not saying anything. The bleached tips of his black hair were now dyed a brilliant electric blue. Gloria and Jason came through the door at the same time. "Guess whose daughter is at the top of her class?" said a grinning Jason.

"Yours," said Eli, sounding satisfied.

"And guess whose brother got a job?" Gloria took a seat right next to John, while Jason sat next to Mari. She was about his height, but much smaller, chestnut-skinned and high-cheekboned.

"What's he doing?" John asked. He'd met her husband's brother, Martin, a few times. He knew that Martin had been living with Graham and Gloria for a while, first coming off drugs and then looking for work and looking after their son, Angus. Martin and Graham were part of a set of triplets and were very close. Their older sister had also crawled out of the pit K had put them in, but their brother had not.

"Working in a creche, believe it or not. He's loved taking care of our son."

"I hope it goes well," John said.

The meeting was just about to begin when Tammy dashed through the door. "Just in time," she gasped out as she sat, her long blond hair sweeping off to one side.

"All right, let's get started," Dr. Dodson said. "Does anyone have anything they want to bring up first?" After a few shakes of the head, he said: "Very well, let's go around the group. Eli?"

"Fine," he said, smiling.

"Peter?"

"The honeymoon was wonderful, and nothing came up then."

"John?"

"You're thinking about something," Mari said before he could respond.

"Kind of, yes."

"We'll get to that later, then. Mari?"

"Nothing new. Still sober. I think I may be able to bring his friend in once. He's wearing down." Mari's husband's best friend had apparently seen him being abused when he was a teenager, and it ate at him tremendously.

"Rodney?"

"She went to work every day this week. So that's good."

"Yes that is. Tammy?"

"Six months sober! We're going out to eat tonight. Her choice."

"Congratulations. Gloria?"

"Well, as I said before, his brother got a job. He's still clean too."

"Good for him. Jason?"

"It's been a good week. Almost like before I found out."

"So John has been the only one who's had any big problems this week?" Dr. Dodson looked around at the group.

"Apparently," John said with a sigh. "It's not really a new thing, though."

"What's the old thing, then?" Eli asked.

"I was thinking this week that he was a lot more comfortable with touching me before we got into whatever our relationship is now."

"Romantic?" Tammy said.

"I guess you can call it that. If there's a romance with no dates or touching and a giant stuffed animal seperates the two of you in bed every night."

"Is that different from before?" Gloria looked him right in the eye.

"Yes," John said after a moment of silence, not believing he was admitting all this.

"What's different besides that?"

"He's so much more cautious around me."

"No intimacy." Peter said it as a fact, not a question.

John shook his head. "I don't know if he'd ever let me. I wouldn't even say he's afraid of it - it's more sheer terror and panic."

"And there's more." Peter used the same tone he had before. John knew that he and his wife had intimacy issues and hadn't actually had sex, but he hadn't thought of their situations as similar.

"Because he said he'd choose her over me." John's words hung in the air.

Peter nodded knowingly. "And?" He didn't want to seem to let John abridge.

"He _gets off_ to what she did to him. He has _fantasies_ about it. He's even said _if she took him back he'd go with her without a second glance_!" John had started to talk in a normal voice, but by the end his face was red with shouting. He hadn't thought about the implications of this before, but suddenly he felt furious with Sherlock.

Peter actually smiled after his outburst. "How long did this go on?" he asked John.

"Ten years, I think."

"How old was he when it started?

"Four."

"You have to remember that every single sexual impulse he has has been changed by his experiences. Most of us remember really experiencing sexual desire in our early teens, right? By the time he got to thirteen he'd already had hundreds of sexual experiences."

"Are you saying he liked those?" All his anger melted away from Sherlock and towards Peter. He barely resisted the urge to jump out of his chair and deck him.

"It's more than that. He most likely found a lot of it painful and scary. Sometimes it felt good, but it always had menace. Sex is always all of those things. And you're both a different person and a different gender. You know what he's thinking? 'What if this is _even worse_?' You have two choices: one is painful and scary, but sometimes good, and you know what it's like. The other is totally unknown, but along the lines of the same thing. Do you go with the known, or try the other one? You'd probably go to the known one, right?" Peter folded his hands in front of him. "Are you really surprised he doesn't want to see what's behind the other door?"

Before John could say anything, Rodney spoke up. "And I'm sure he loves that other person. He has to; otherwise he can't rationalize any pain he was caused."

John felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket, and cursed. He'd have to answer it, in case it was a crisis involving Sherlock, but he'd felt almost on the verge of a breakthrough. "Mobile's ringing. Mind if I step out?"

"Take the call," Dr. Dodson said, and gestured to the door.

John headed out and picked up the mobile on the third ring. "John? It's Lou George. I'm usually not in the office on Sundays, but can you stop by? It's important."


End file.
